


I'm with you

by erintoknow



Series: Fallen Hero Sidestep AU Fanfics [16]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, Gen, Partners in Crime, Subterfuge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22550812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: It's not enough to burn down The Farm, you and Serra need to make sure no one rebuilds it. To that end, the two of you need a foothold in the federal government.A Senator would make a good starting point.
Relationships: Sidestep & Sidestep (Fallen Hero)
Series: Fallen Hero Sidestep AU Fanfics [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1433116
Kudos: 6





	I'm with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angelwire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwire/gifts).



> Serra is [Angelwire's Sidestep OC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angelwire/pseuds/Angelwire)  
> Thanks again!!

“Couldn’t you have dressed a little more… down to earth?” You try not to stare at Serra’s electric blue suit as the two of you make your way through the crowd at the grand re-reopening Gala.

Serra rolls a lazy eye your direction, “Or… you could have dressed a little nicer.”

You huff, crossing your arms under your shawl. “This is nice!”

“You look like somebody’s grandmother.”

You gasp, turning to punch your companion in the shoulder as she cackles. Serra lets you, then makes a show of rubbing where you hit. “Asshole.”

“Language!” Serra tsks, still grinning.

You make a fist and wap her again, a little more softly this time. “We should have co-ordinated this better,” you hiss under your breath. “Look at these people. We stick out like a sore thumb.”

Serra shakes her head, grinning widely as she swipes a cocktail off the tray of a passing server. The man doesn’t even notice the two of you there as you walk by. “Two talented gals like us? We’ll be in and out before anyone even notices.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

“It was _your_ idea to do it this way. Don’t get cold feet on me now.”

“I know… I just…” You sigh, try to press out the buzz of self-absorbed thoughts encapsulating the both of you. Take a breath. Hold it. Exhale. “Fuck it. Let’s get this over with.” You lean back against the wall, closing your eyes. “G–give me some breathing room to work with?”

“Sure.” Serra takes another sip from her cocktail as you feel her telepathic presence reach out to you. A sensation of kaleidoscopic colors not quite touching your thoughts but skimming around the shape of them. Interceding between you and the buzz of the crowd, dropping it away to nothing.

With a clear head you stretch your awareness back out past Serra’s wall, flitting from mind to mind, one at a time. Somewhere in this crowd the Senator is schmoozing with the guests. Networking, fundraising, however you want to disguise it. The only question is where?

Can feel the echo of that same question from Serra and you shake your head. Still looking.

A single senator snared in your web doesn’t change the picture much, but it’ll be a start. Open the doors to bigger fish. If you and Serra are going to take down the Farm, then you need to make sure the dumb bastards don’t just rebuild the whole thing afterwards.

A note snags at your awareness and you shift attention. There we go: Mrs. Diane Forrester herself. This is her sixth term as Senator. Getting her on your side could open a lot of doors indeed. She’s in a reading room, third floor. Talking with a collection of businessmen. You prod at Serra’s awareness, direct it upwards.

Serra’s focus shifts, the chatter of the crowd filtering back in around you as she withdraws her shield to confirm the location herself.

You put a hand to your temple, rubbing the skin. “Got it?”

Serra nods. “Got it.”

“Great.” You take a breath, chewing at the side of your cheek. “Just – just like we, uh, we practiced then.”

Serra smirks, raising her cocktail towards you before finishing it off.

You head off first. One flight of stairs, then the next. Mrs. Forrester’s location a pull in the back of your head, guiding you through maze of a mansion. God you hate these stuffy Hollywood wannabes. The film industry in Los Diablos may be a shadow of its former self, but the neighborhood is still full of new money eager to have some of the old shine rub off on them.

Silently you glide into the reading room with the target. Mrs. Forrester is sharing some joke with a man dressed up like 1920s oil tycoon. Everyone in the room politely laughs, waiting for their turn to extract influence.

You try to catch the moment, spin it into a kind of ear worm playing on repeat through everyone’s heads. And then, one by one, pare the crowd down. Prodding the onlookers with reminders about pressing business elsewhere. Meetings, family, restrooms. A headache starting to press down between your eyes as you finally, carefully, pry mr. oil tycoon away. Watch him walk past you with a dazed expression.

Only Mrs. Forrester remains, telling her joke to a now empty room, pausing for the laugh that doesn’t come and looping back into the joke.

Fuck. This is why you need Serra. Someone fresh-faced to finish the second half the job.

Right on cue, she strolls in, a fresh cocktail in hand. She winks at you as she passes by, one hand at the buttons of her suit jacket. Putting on all the airs of one of the elite.

“Diane! So glad we could talk!” Serra smiles, holding out a hand to the senator.

She blinks, shaking her head with a slight twitch as you let go of her mind. “Oh? Hello,” Mrs. Forrester smiles broadly back at Serra, taking her hand in a firm shake. Looking your partner in crime up and down. “I don’t believe we’ve met before…?”

“Jackson, of Mutual Financial Investment.” With a smooth flick of her wrist, a business card appears in Serra’s fingers. As the two shake, Serra presses it into Forrester’s hand. “But please, honey, you can call me Linda.” Serra winks. “I’ve been a big supporter of your work in conservation on Capital Hill for years.”

“Well, Linda, I deeply appreciate your support.” Forrester smiles along. Rule number one of schmoozing, never admit ignorance when someone with money comes knocking. “It’s been a hard fight.”

Serra nods sagely. “This push to repeal the wildlife protection act… horrid.”

“I agree completely.”

“And then that work they’ve been doing on the border with Nevada.” Serra sighs dramatically shaking her head. “It’s a sin.”

“I…” Forrester, falters, at a lost as to what Serra’s talking about. You reach in, give her a push. “You’re right of course.”

“So you agree?” Serra brightens up. “Sometimes I wonder if anyone in that swamp over there cares about the big picture anymore.”

“That’s why I have these gatherings, keeps me connected to my constituency.”

You have to cover your mouth to not burst out laughing at that one.

“And it’s good that you do!” Serra raises her cocktail towards Forrester, and then her expression darkens. “Especially when it comes to serious fucking issues like this – excuse my French.”

“Pardon?”

“The stuff they’re doing out there? Where they think no one’s watching?”

What is Serra doing? This isn’t part of the plan. You give her a mental prod. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge it.

The Senator laughs, nervous. “Sounds serious.”

“It’s a crime.” Serra presses. “The kind that makes you wish hell was real.” Her grip on her cocktail glass tightens. You grit your your teeth. She’s laying it on too thick. It’s not like you don’t get it. Not like you don’t want to see everyone in that damn complex dead. But she insisted she could keep her cool about this.

“I’ll… have my people look into it” Forrester smiles, visibly unnerved.

Okay, time to step in before things get messy. You approach the pair from the side, coughing to clear your throat. “Hey, uh, Ja– Ms. Jackson, we should, uh, we should get going.”

Serra doesn’t look at you, still focused on the Senator. “We’re not finished yet.”

“N–no, we uh, we are.” You smile apologetically at Forrester. “S–sorry to um, to steal her away so soon.”

“That’s… quite alright.”

You take Serra’s arm, her body stiffening under your touch. “You uh, you have our contact info if – if you need more information.” You pull at Serra. “Com’on, we’ve monopolized enough of the Senator’s time.”

* * *

The salt air blows against your face. You take a deep breath, letting the air fill your lungs before reluctantly letting it go. “Well. That… didn’t go terribly.”

Serra frowns, avoiding your gaze. Hands on the guard rail, overlooking the bay. “If you say so.”

“I do.” You nod. “You… uh, you got a little intense there at the end. But I think it worked.”

“You said. I just…”

“Just w–what?”

Serra shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Well now I _know_ it’s – uh, it’s something.”

“Shut up!” Serra laughs, jabbing you in the arm. “You really think she’ll actually look into it like she said?”

“Who knows?” You fiddle with your sunglasses against your face, frowning at the waves breaking against the rocks below. “We’ll keep working both angles. Find a crack big enough to plunge a dagger in.”

“Grim.”

“But true.” You sigh, “We’ve got to build a serious power base if this is going to happen. Might as well try whatever ideas we can come up with.”

That gets Serra to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “So you reconsidered? About my plan?”

She means removing the Rangers from the equation.

“I…” You wince, avoid her eyes. “Well. We – we can’t go back anyway.”

“ _I_ can’t go back. But you…”

“No.” You push back against inquisitive thoughts. Shake your head. “Sidestep is dead. And I… without you I’d still be… no. I’m with you on this to the end.”

“Hey,” Serra jostles you out of your thoughts. “How about we head back to my place, talk the next steps over pizza?”

You blink. “My workshop is closer.”

“Yeah, but…” Serra waves the suggestion away. “My place is a lot nicer than yours.”

“Wow.” You laugh, “Rude.”

Serra laughs too. “It’s not rude, it’s the truth.”

“Careful,” You shake your head, following along as Serra sets off away down the boardwalk. “You’re uh, you’re starting to sound like the assholes at that party.”

She shakes her head, lips pressed together in a thin smile as she winks at you. “All part of the camouflage.”

“Yeah. I’m sure the penthouse apartment doesn’t hurt.”

“It sure doesn’t.”


End file.
